


Despite My Nature, I'll Break That Cycle

by IObse33



Category: Henry Stickmin Series (Video Games)
Genre: Domestic Violence, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:09:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26276944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IObse33/pseuds/IObse33
Summary: Henry may be chaotic, he may be a kleptomaniac, and he may have gotten into plenty trouble. However, there is one crime he will not permit, a crime that haunts him from his youth.
Relationships: Charles Calvin/Henry Stickmin
Comments: 7
Kudos: 360





	Despite My Nature, I'll Break That Cycle

Lights were luminescent, bright white LEDs that left no shadows within the store, so that it looked like a poorly rendered video game. Aisles were tall and looming, large yellow signs bragged about clearance. It was a large building. It was the supermarket Henry was shopping in. Shopping was of particular disinterest to Henry. It was stressful, included planning for the week, calculating how much money is needed, walking around and not stealing a single object. It was rigorous, stable and scheduled, everything Henry was not. 

Worst off, Henry found himself alone in the store. No one to interact with, just his lonesome self while he worried about Charles. Charles, who was at home asleep with the flu. Being winter, it only made sense that one of them fell sick to the yearly virus. While it gave Henry motivation to shop, it didn't necessarily make the chore satisfactory. 

Mostly it was soup ingredients he was collecting. Another task he admired not. Cooking was not a strong suit of his, and he much preferred piping something packaged in the microwave. Still, he'd do whatever he could to help Charles grow healthy, even if it meant learning how to boil up chicken soup. 

Check out lines were long and slow moving. The sound of conversation filled the air, scent that of a hint of sweat, since most purple still had their extra winter garments on within the warm heated store. It was crowded, loud, the overhead industrial heaters growling over everyone. The air was stuffy. 

Henry couldn't help fidgeting with the cuffs of his own jacket as he stood in line. He picked at a stray strand of fibre. Close quarters always got his anxiety going, and even though he too was starting to overheat, the layers of clothing made him feel protected. 

Screaming filled his ears, sourced from the young child beside him in the next line. Not too young, at the age of 9, it was a girl begging and whining for a toy. Talking to her was an equally frustrated woman, most likely her mother. Her face flushed with shame and embarassment, and yet she was yelling almost just as much as her child. 

The raised voices filled Henry's head even as he tried to block out the noise, wishing he'd brought earbuds. His heart raced, pulse picking up and he shifted from foot to foot. The seat was not from heat but stress. Brain flooded with old memories, that's echoing to stop causing a scene or else. 

He could see the hand above him, coming down. Slowly. No fast. 

No. Looming over the child. 

Adrenaline. Fear. Everything said to run, to escape this, he never should be back here. Like a coil of snakes his gut twisted, and he felt his mouth go dry. 

He was in front of the child. In front of the mother. Between the two with brows furrowed, a determined expression. 

"Get out of my face."

Henry fought, lips pursed, twitching. Digging through his spiking fear to find his voice. To try and speak. Something. Anything. You won't touch that child. No. He's silent. Nothing. 

"I'm not afraid of you, get out of my way."

A stadium. Hundreds of pairs of eyes watching, tall aisles leaning over, looming and haunting and daring. The child, silent, clinging to this stranger's leg who dated protect her. 

An employee is approaching, calling out to diffuse the situation. 

The sting hurts less than the flashbacks. Henrys hand flies to his cheek. He glares at the mother, debased. Humiliated. Even as he knows he's protecting and doing right. In no serious danger yet his eyes tear up. Knocked down from his pedestal in his mind, nothing left to lose, he finds his voice. 

"I am a part of the military ma'am. I can easily sue you."

His voice is shaky, stares still surrounding him. The employee is closing in looking to check Henrys condition, to calm the child. The pressure is that of a volcano about to burst. Henry moved out of the way, ignores the employee. He pays for his groceries, and despite protests, fled from the store before the cops could arrive. 

-

Home was not far away. 

Home was Charles' nice little suburban house, just far enough in the edge of town to smell the farmland. Grass was greener here, even in the middle of winter, the sun unobstructed by smog. The smell of wet hay and cow filled the air, lavished by flowers lining near every house in the neighborhood. Henry exited his car, gathering the groceries with trembling arms and made his way inside the house. 

Charles was on the leather couch, pillows decorating the seating. He was curled up, watching TV in front of him, the only source of light in the house, glowing vibrant blue. Though, he looked to Henry with a small smile, rosy cheeks, nose and all. 

"Hi… how was shopping?... Henry?"

Henry walked through the living room and to the dining room. He looked not at Charles but at the dark mahogany table where he placed the multiple bags of groceries upon his arms. Still withholding a reply, still trembling, he headed to the kitchen. 

"Henry? Is your cheek okay?"

Henry slid open the back door. Opened the screen door. Excited into the backyard and onto the porch. He took a deep breath of the sharp winter air. They themselves had Lilacs along the back of the yard. 

One. Two. Three. No matter how he tried, relentless or wavering, he could not even his breath. He could return inside, but wanted not to worry Charles. Fumbling, he stumbles to the potted plant of vines, reached between it and the wall of the house. From the crevice he withdrew a lighter. From the small outdoor table he grabbed a small roll of weed. 

One. One. Two. Light. Wind kicks up, the small flame kicking Henry's thumb and he curses as it nearly burns him. He lights the blunt. 

One. Two. Three. Hold. 

Release. One. Two. Three. 

"Henry?"

Henry practically jumped, then took another drag as he looked at Charles. The man was bundled in more than a few blankets, huddled over himself in a thick winter coat. He shuffled forward. Looking up at Henry, he revealed an arm so he could trace the light pink splotch staining his cheek. Henry flinched. 

"Did someone hurt you?"

Henry's eyes were half lidded as he looked away, nodding softly. 

"It.. well, hey, buddy, its only something small. You're okay, right? " Henry hesitated, looked Charles in the eyes, then shook his head no. 

They stood in silence, Charles leaning against Henry who continued to indulge in his blunt. The cold air nipped their noses, the wind ruffled their hair. Clouds rolled and cleared, the sun too bright for Charles headache. 

"Henry? How about we head inside. We can make tea. Or. I can. And we can discuss what happened. Alright?"

Slowly, sluggish like a snail, Henry nodded, putting out his blunt and wrapping an arm around Charles instead. He led the two of them back inside, and Charles directed himself to the cabinet containing tea. Henry made his way to the coffee table in the living room, retrieving the notepad and pencil residing there. 

By the time Charles once again questioned as to what happened at the store, Henry was already taping his shoulder with a sketch in his hand. The sketch was that of a mother with a raised hand and a cowering child. 

"Oh. Oh. Oh?"

Henry pointed to himself, then in between the two humans in the drawing. 

"You stood up for that little girl? That's. Amazing. That's so brave of you Henry. Hey, what's so bad about it?"

Henry frowned, and as Charles put two mugs of water in the microwave for a minute and a half, he wrote a couple words into the same paper before gesturing for Charles to look. 

'My childhood.'

Charles blinked. Sniffles due to his stuffy nose. Then he opened up his robe of blankets to entrap his lover in an embrace. No words needed to be said as Charles nuzzled into Henry's shoulder, and Henry appreciatively rested his chin on Charles head. They held each other tight, and Henry had to withhold a few of his own sniffles. Warm, together, safe. Henry was safe. He was safe here with Charles. 

The microwave was beeping by the time they pulled apart, and soon they had themselves two lovely cups of rosehip tea. Dinner could wait, and together they cuddles up on the couch to watch cheesy films together.


End file.
